


You Saw Nothing

by lithping



Category: One Piece
Genre: Safe For Work, Some profanity, mostly crocodile, some au where fruit powers dont apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithping/pseuds/lithping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Crocodile is fed up with being distracted while he is working</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Saw Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> welp heres my first work ever on this site; unofficial title is "croc gets fucking rekt and then slept on: the shipfic" a la chii  
> some feels and some goofs  
> an effort was made

There it was again; that infernal rustling.

 

 Sir Crocodile clicked his pen in irritation and glared balefully at the source of the disruption: A mass of black feathers with limbs that was thrashing about on a nearby chair. How many times did this make now? In any case, he couldn’t allow it to continue.

 

 Rising from his desk, he marched across the dimly lit office to stand directly in front of the occupied chair. A ray of Alabastan summer sun filtered through the blinds and revealed a familiar, lipsticked face.

 

 Donquixote Rocinante was dreaming; of what, Crocodile could only guess. The sleeping man’s face was set in a grimace as he continued to struggle with an imagined enemy, his staggered breathing punctuated with the occasional soft groan. As Crocodile looked on, Rocinante gave a final jerk and fell still. His body draped limply over the chair with his face in the armrest. It was curious, but no less irksome.

 

 If he had known that he’d be dealing with…whatever _this_ was… on a regular basis, Crocodile would never have agreed to let Rocinante stay in the first place. He usually proved to be quiet and non-intrusive, but as of late these incidents had increased in frequency; It was driving him up the wall.

 

 Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation. Rocinante was quiet now, but there was no telling if-no, _when_ , he’d start again; it would be best to toss him out of the room now while he had the chance.

 

 He reached out and grabbed a handful of feathers near where he assumed the man’s shoulder to be, shaking roughly. “Rocinante, this is the last st-HMFF!”

 

 Before he could finish, a long, spindly leg had caught him in the gut, throwing him backwards into the nearby coffee table with unexpected force and overturning it. There was a crash as a china vase fell to the floor and shattered. Crocodile scrambled to his feet, fuming. Then he walked briskly behind the now flailing Rocinante and tipped him out of the chair, where he curled in on himself, shaking.

 

 Whether he was awake or not, Crocodile didn’t know and didn’t care; he wanted this man out of his office and he wanted him out _now_. Shoving the chair aside, He bent over Rocinante and hooked his coat, lifting him up as far as his height allowed. Rocinante hung there like a ragdoll, and Crocodile could now see tears streaming down his face. He stared, briefly surprised out of his anger. This was new; as eccentric as Rocinante could be, he’d never seen him cry before. What could have happened to make him like this?

 

 A hiccuping sob from the dangling man brought Crocodile back to earth. He had work to do. As concerning as this behavior was, he simply hadn’t the time or the patience to deal with other people’s problems, not to mention his arms were getting tired. Rocinante could go cry somewhere else.

 

 Crocodile began to drag Rocinante towards the door, but somehow those ridiculously long legs got caught up in his own and sent the two of them toppling backward in a tangle of limbs. Cursing, Crocodile struggled to get out from underneath Rocinante; but an iron grip on his vest stopped him in his tracks.

 

Crocodile groaned in frustration. “If you would please refrain from holding on to me like that-” He was interrupted by indistinct mumbling. “What?”

 

“Just- Just stay like this with me. Only for a bit. please.” Rocinante rasped softly. His breath was still uneven and shallow. Crocodile was speechless; this was hardly the time or place. What if someone came in? But that hand was still clutching at his vest and showed no signs of letting go, at least not anytime soon. He sighed.

 

 “Don’t expect to get any more favors like this from me.” He grumbled, settling himself on the floor. Rocinante only gave a small smile in return.

 

 It wasn’t long before he felt Rocinante relax and his breath deepen. Dammit, was he asleep? He couldn’t see from this angle. Crocodile was nearly at his limit; he was pinned uncomfortably on his stomach and his legs were going numb. But Rocinante was significantly larger than him and couldn’t be moved. He’d just have to wait and hope that this sleep would be more peaceful than the others.

 

The room was silent except for the soft ticking of the clock. As Crocodile counted the seconds, he began to notice that Rocinante’s heartbeat matched his own. Despite his discomfort, he found the rhythm to be oddly reassuring. He laid his head on the cool, marble floor and let his eyes close. If he was stuck here, he may as well get some rest for the long night of paperwork ahead.

 

A familiar loud click startled Crocodile from his dozing. His worst fears had been realized; someone had come into the office.  He looked quickly towards the door and found Daz Bones gaping at them blankly from the entrance, a sheaf of papers in hand.

 

 They stared at each other  for several agonizing moments; Crocodile’s gaze was cold enough to freeze hell. Daz started to close the door.. 

 

“ _Wait_.” Crocodile’s voice was dead calm. The door opened again. Crocodile held out his hand. “Give me those,” he said, gesturing at the documents. Daz complied. “You are dismissed.”

 

As the door clicked shut, he pulled a pen from his breast pocket and began to work. Rocinante hadn’t moved even once yet; was it because of him? As he contemplated this, he heard a quiet whisper from behind.

 

“Law.”

 


End file.
